Shared Passions
by CdnJAGScribe
Summary: Animal/Maegyn, Harm/Diane Schonke; Maegyn has seen Animal before when she was a nugget in VF-41 but he left before they could get acquainted, but now he was back in the Black Aces, a senior officer, a lieutenant commander in the zone for O-5. The attraction was still there…will they or won't they take advantage of the situation.
1. The Return

"Shared Passions"

Author: Haruo Chikamori

E-mail: hhchikamori

Rating: M

Classification: Animal/Maegyn;

Spoilers: N/A

Summary: Maegyn has seen Animal before when she was a nugget in VF-41 but he left before they could get acquainted, but now he was back in the Black Aces, a senior officer, a lieutenant commander in the zone for O-5. The attraction was still there…will they or won't they take advantage of the situation.

DISCLAIMER: The characters Harm Rabb, Jr., Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie, Meg Austin, AJ Chegwidden, Bud Roberts, Harriet Sims-Roberts et al. belong (in concept if not name) to CBS/Bellisarius. Animal and all OC characters are the property of Heather and Hugo Chikamori. No profit is being made from this story, nor is any infringement intended.

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_**NAS Oceana, May 25**__**th**__**, 1992**_

"Hey, Irish! I hear we're getting a new department head…e's a MiG Killer, eh…"

"Really?" Lieutenant Maegyn "Irish" O'Bannon, looked back at Lieutenant Philippe "Frenchie" Leblanc; "So…you know who's getting piped aboard?"

"Mais, I really don't know…" LT Leblanc uttered, his Cajun accent coming through clearly though he had spent four years in the Navy. "It all a de'pouille to me…"

"A what?" Half the time, when Leblanc went into his deep swamp Creole, Maegyn couldn't understand half of what he was going on about. But then again, Leblanc had just transferred into the Black Aces and he probably didn't have a clue as to who was who just yet. He had flown a couple of training missions with their turnaround training cycle, where those who had been in staff positions were shuffled into get their operational deployments so that they could go onto greater things.

"Confusing as shit…" Leblanc replied. "New guy come in…he toss things 'round…mebbe go make new confusing rules…we get flying hours cut…who knows…"

Maegyn rolled her eyes. Leblanc was always going on about something. "Philippe, you're probably exaggerating things, y'know…" she grinned at him. Maybe we should go talk to ops. Maybe they might know when the new guy's coming on board."

"I hear he's a hinge…" Leblanc held forth. "got promoted two years go…maybe get select for deep-select as O-5. This guy, he's an up n'comer…mebbe even flag rank down the road."

"C'mon, let's go see if anyone can give us anything other than conjecture." Maegyn stated. She was curious as to who was transferring in to the squadron.

_**A small restaurant in Belleville, PA, May 25**__**th**__**, 1992**_

"I'm going back to school. Law…" Harm stated. He'd finally managed to get his last physical therapy session and had managed to put away the cane. "Georgetown, I start in September, reserved my commission. Gonna be hard to get into the rhythm of studying."

"Good to hear, Harm." Keeter replied as he looked over at his friends. Animal sat in the other seat, drinking a soda, nodding his own assent.

"You've come through a lot, Harm. Good to see you get up and fight." Animal stated firmly. The two younger officers sat there taking long pulls at their beers. Animal being five years older was senior to them - A lieutenant commander to their lieutenant rank; but they were in civilian clothes.

Harm had just come through a long and arduous physical rehabilitation after a ramp strike that had killed his RIO. He'd had his wings yanked and was given the choice to either separate or transfer into the staff corps due to medical reasons. It had taken a long period of soul-searching and Harm had realized that he'd wanted a Navy career regardless of the absence of flying. And Grandma Sarah had given him the opportunity to take the opportunity to do some soul-searching without being pressured. And his best friends had given him the time and the space to do so without the agony of seeing them as it hurt to see them still able to fly. And when Harm was ready to do so, he made the overtures of inviting them out to Belleville to come see him.

Animal was glad that Harm had made a decision to do something with the rest of his Navy career. Whatever had happened in that ramp strike had cut him deeply. Harm was a broken man when he found out that his RIO hadn't survived the accident and the subsequent investigation and court proceedings had, if not ended his career, found him medically responsible for the accident that had occurred. That was why Harm had retreated into himself and went to his Grandma Sarah's home to recover and regain focus. "You'll be able to…you're diligent with your studies and you're able to do what you need to do. You've shown that in RAG. Apply it to your studies and you'll ace it." Animal grinned at his former wingman, raising a fist to his buddy, he fist-bumped it against Harm's raised fist.

"Howlers!" they both exclaimed.

"Stop it, you two…you're making me teary-eyed…" Keeter said sarcastically. Keeter was always uncomfortable around emotion - also the fact that he flew for a different squadron.

"So, where are you going now?" Harm said, noting that Animal had just come back from a deployment off the Seahawk with the Howlers and considering Animal had been with the Howlers for two years, he was slated to be shipped off to another squadron.

"Back to my home…the VF-41 Black Aces." Animal grinned at Harm. "They're on a turnaround training cycle and I'm going to have to apply boots to asses to get them in ready shape for the deployment…they're scheduled in the Med in Spring '93…so, we got some serious training that we have to do over the next six months to ensure they're ops capable." He turned to Keeter, "So what about you, turkey?"

"The name's Keeter…" Keeter grumbled good-naturedly, the older man had always called him something off-color… "Well…I'm with the Cougars, and we're slated to be covering your asses in the Med while you're playing in the desert. We deploy in two weeks."

Animal snorted with laughter. "Well, good luck, you'll need it. You'll be covering a lot of CAP while you're out there. Let's just say the Russians don't like it too much. They get a bit nervous when we start dropping MiGs into the sand."

"Yeah, Animal, I can really feel the love…" Keeter said sarcastically.

"Yeah, I'm just glad it ain't me. I get to stay home and enjoy some home-cooking state-side for a change." Animal snickered, bursting into laughter as he contemplated Keeter's aggrieved face. He turned to Harm and said. "So, what are you going to be studying in first year Law?"

"Oh, just the usual: civil procedure, contracts, constitutional law, criminal procedure, property and torts." Harm replied. "In second year you start to specialize, military law and maritime law…" he shrugged his shoulders, "but I'm going to just try to get through my first year before I even consider figuring out what I'm going to major in." Harm actually felt like he was going to look forward to studying law.

The nice thing about Belleville was that it was a sleepy little farm community that enjoyed its peaceful atmosphere and welcomed those who stopped by who knew a resident there. The three were well-known because of their connection to Grandma Sarah who was a well-known and loved resident of Belleville, and Harm was welcomed there every time he went.

_**NAS Oceana, May 27, 1992 0700hrs.**_

A Chevrolet Camaro Iroc-Z, dark metallic blue, made its way onto the base with the envious looks of the Marine gate guards following its movement along the parking lot, till it came to a stop in a space by the parking lot of the VF-41 Black Aces. The eyes of the officer and enlisted squadron members who were at the base at that early time, noticed the unfamiliar vehicle and wondered who that could be; when the occupant of the vehicle opened the door, and a brightly polished oxford corfam shoe impacted the pavement. Looking higher up they noticed a khaki clad calf and eventually, the exiting form of a peanut butters clad Asian-American naval officer whose eyes gazed at the sign, nodded perfunctorily, slipped on his RayBan aviator tear-drop sunglasses and shut the door of his Iroc-Z. Two engaging beeps of his car alarm later, the khaki-clad officer strode up to the office door, a grin plastered to his face when most of the enlisted realized that he had gold oak-leaves on his collars and snapped to attention as he stepped into the office. Pulling off his sunglasses and hanging them off the pocket of his khakis…he grinned at the rest of the officers in the office. "Well…glad to be back here…" he uttered, extending his hand to the first officer in the line, "Hi, Lieutenant Commander Toshio Nakamura, callsign Animal." He grinned.

Looking over his ribbon rack, the rest of the officers in the crowd saw a Distinguished Flying Cross ribbon with a second award star and a V signifying valor. The second ribbon was one that was awarded for an incident in the Persian Gulf where an Iraqi speedboat loaded with armed gunmen were headed towards an A-6 crew that had gone down in the water. Animal had strafed the speedboat even though a shoulder launched SAM was fired at him and he was at bingo fuel. He had made it back to the boat on vapor and trapped a third wire. He'd been awarded the Air Medal three times with a 3 strike number. The officers' eyes widened as they went down his ribbon rack seeing a Navy Commendation and several unit citations and medals. There was also a National Defense Service Medal with a bronze star as well as the customary Gulf War medals including the rarely worn Saudi Arabia Liberation of Kuwait as Animal had been there at the outset of the war flying missions in that short two month period in which the medal had been awarded. He had served three deployments already and had the two bronze stars to show for it on his sea service ribbon. And the last two ribbons denoted that he was both an expert with the M-16A2 and the M9 Beretta. This was not a REMF as far as they were concerned – he had an extensive been there done that…rack.

Commander Brett "House" Maxwell, VF-41 CO stepped forward from the welcoming committee and shook Animal's hand. "Good to see you back. Animal."

"Thanks a bunch, sir. I'm glad to be back. Howlers were a great bunch of guys, but it's not home."

"C'mon into my office; that way the guys don't have their eyes bugging out their skulls inspecting your ribbon rack to see if you're legit. We can talk there." House replied, gesturing to another commander standing beside him. "This is Commander Laurent _Mad Dog_ Thibodeaux; he's the XO. He's one of two Cajuns in this squadron. The other's Lieutenant Philippe "Frenchie" Leblanc. Mad Dog here's the more coherent of the two. Frenchie, half the time we can't understand what the fuck he's yammering on about."

"So how many of the guys have been rotated out? House?" Animal asked. "When I was with the squadron you were the XO. And Mad Dog was a department head of maintenance."

House shook his head. "A lot, Animal. Three-quarters of the guys are new here, that's why we needed you to come in as a department head in ops and help kick some ass so that we're ready to deploy first quarter of 93. But not all the people are new. You probably remember Irish. She transferred in as a JG before you headed off to the Howlers because you couldn't keep your feet dry. She's now one of the senior lieutenants, a hot stick…and not too bad on the eyes either…" House said quietly. "I think she remembers you…you were a Lieutenant when you went off to play in the sandbox." Animal chuckled wryly. The sandbox was a derogatory nickname for Saudi Arabia.

"Yeah, you know me…I prefer the smell of JP and seawater…that's all the perfume I wanna smell." Animal replied jocularly. "So, what are you going to have me do in terms of ops. Make sure the cones know how to fly their aircraft and scream at the wrenches?"

Mad Dog chuckled. "Naw, Animal, eh. I do the screaming at the wrenches."

"Yeah, OK, Mad Dog, you're senior than me…so you'd have more effect…sir." Animal added. "So how much flying are we doing?"

"Oh, lots. We're going to be detached to Fallon for a two week ACM refresher course so that we're all happy little warriors looking to knock heads when we head out. And we'll get refreshers all the way through this next six months just so that the knowledge doesn't fade away. We'll also be doing some range evolutions where we can practice what we learned at Fallon."

The little introductory meeting lasted for a good solid hour…and when Animal, Mad Dog and House were done, they got up, stretched, and headed for a tour around the VF-41 facilities to give Animal an idea of what sort of things were available: hangars, operational planning section, the flight gear house, the simulators, everything that was necessary to run a squadron and last but not least, the flight-line.

Lieutenant Maegyn O'Bannon, just back from a training sortie, caught sight of House and Mad Dog and an Asian officer in khakis walking out to the flight line. "SIR!" she called out.

"Lieutenant." House replied. "I'm sure you remember our newest ops department head, Lieutenant Commander Toshio Nakamura. He was a lieutenant when you rotated in to the squadron as a JG."

Maegyn's green eyes brightened and she smiled widely and spoke with a hint of a Boston accent. "I do, sir. Welcome back to the Black Aces, Lieutenant Commander Nakamura." But then her smile faded slightly. "However, I may not be on the deployment with you in 1993, sir. My detailer called me and told me that he had a staff position to be filled in six months. I've put in for it, because I need it for my O-4, sir. Darn…" she snapped her fingers. "Just my luck, you come back and I have to leave. Can we catch up later, sir?"

"Of course, Lieutenant O'Bannon." Animal grinned. He'd always liked the young lieutenant JG that he'd met before he left to head for the Howlers. "I'll look forward to it." House and Mad Dog were looking at each other trying not to be obtrusive.

"Two ships passing in the night, aren't we, sir." LT O'Bannon said. "I join, you leave, you join the squadron, I leave…" she let loose a melodramatic sigh. "Looking forward to talking to you later, sir. Talk to you soon, sir. I gotta get this bag off, it's getting uncomfortable." She braced to attention, while holding her flight helmet bag.

"Carry on, Lieutenant."

House and Mad Dog looked at each other then at Animal. "I'm not even going to speculate what was going on…" House said. "I didn't hear it…nope…not one bit…" Mad Dog had his fingers in his ears.

"Is she working with me in ops?" Animal asked. House and Mad Dog paled.


	2. Strip Your Patches!

_**NAS Oceana, Virginia Beach, VA, 1030 hrs**_

Animal settled into the work schedule of the morning as the head of operations for the Black Aces. With an impending training schedule that included a 4 week TDY in the desert near Miramar trading broadsides with the Navy Fighter Weapons School jocks towards the end of the year. On top of that, the aircraft were to undergo maintenance and SLEP if necessary. The New Year would herald a deployment in the first quarter which really reduced the amount of time that was necessary to get everybody up to speed. There was a list of things that needed to be accomplished before the Aces could be considered deployment-ready and it was a long and laborious process. Animal was in charge of training the would-be new aviators that had just stepped into their first operational squadron – RAG (Reserve Air Group) didn't count as operational as they were feet-dry from the time they stepped in there to the time they stepped out to go to their new squadron. Eighteen months at a RAG didn't teach them a damned thing about operational flying that they were going to have to do day-in; day-out when they got out to the boat. The first operational squadron that the cones got into would be an eye-opener.

Animal knew he had a limited amount of time to get all of the squadron into fighting shape and ensure that they were combat-ready. That meant an intensive regimen of ACM intensive sorties to give them an idea of what they might encounter over the skies of Iraq and Operation Southern Watch. After being fresh coming off an Operation Southern Watch campaign with the Howlers, Animal could give the Black Aces some idea of what it was going to be like out there. House would be counting on him to do just that.

Miramar would be an eye-opener for most of these new aviators – for they had mostly fought ACM versus similar opponents. DACT (Dissimilar Air Combat Training) was another kettle of fish. When one went up against a smaller, more maneuverable opponent like the F-5E Tiger II or the A-4F Skyhawk that Animal had fought against in the FTI course, it was a whole new world. If one was caught off guard by the turning capability of the F-5E, they were dead – no two ways about it. Animal had been to Topgun (the way it's written in the military – not the two separated words like the movie) and it was an intensive nine-week course designed to train already experienced Navy and Marine Corps aircrews at the graduate level (_although it is currently not a regionally or nationally accredited educational program_) in all aspects of strike-fighter aircraft employment, which includes tactics, hardware, techniques and the current world threat for air-to-air and air-to-ground missions. The course included eighty hours of lectures and twenty-five flights that pit students against Topgun instructors. When a pilot or WSO completed the Topgun course he/she had the ability to return as a Training Officer carrying the latest tactical doctrine back to their operational squadron, or go directly to an FRS squadron to teach new aircrews. And Animal was considered by staff at NSAWC to potentially become a Topgun instructor himself. But right now he was a Fighter Tactics Instructor and would utilize his experience as a Topgun graduate and MiG Killer to teach these newly assigned naval aviators to the Black Aces how to fly and fight in the F-14A Tomcat. And then he would recommend those aviators who showed promise to House to set them up to be the next Topgun student to go study at the Naval Fighter Weapons School to replace him as the FTI for whatever squadron they went to.

Animal would be instituting a regimen of ACM training for the next six months until the Black Aces departed for Miramar to get a brush up pre-deployment DACT training course and then they would fly back to Oceana and start prepping in earnest for the deployment to come. The Miramar course would apply the polish to the finish product and then they would keep honing their edge until the squadron was razor sharp.

A low chuckle at the door caused Animal to look up to see Maegyn leaning against the door of his now-office. "Hey, thinking deep thoughts?" she asked, holding a cup of coffee in one hand, freshly showered with damp hair and dressed in working peanut butters, lieutenant's bars on her collars, no ribbons, but her naval aviator's insignia over her left breast pocket.

"Yes…" Animal replied…adopting a rather lugubrious expression. "So much work…to do…so little time." Then lifted his head up and waggled his eyebrows comically with a melodramatically evil expression. "Just contemplating how to make the cones wet their diapers."

Maegyn laughed, rolling her eyes. "Ah, the ever-favorite pastime of all department heads – how to make cones pee their pants." She gave him an eyebrow raised stare. "Heaven help us. Did House create a monster?"

At that Animal dissolved in laughter as he motioned Maegyn to come in and take a load off her feet which she did. "So…tell me more about this staffer-position you got with the Pentagon?"

"Actually…" Maegyn corrected him. "It's with the US Second Fleet out of Norfolk, on the admiral's staff. A pretty lofty post for a lieutenant like me, but I figure that it's worth it to be able to have that on the record to make a case for my O-4s."

Animal nodded, "Not bad at all, Irish." Animal replied as he gazed at Maegyn. "Admiral's staff is one of the best staff positions to make your mark at if you're aiming for higher rank."

Irish batted her eyelashes at Animal. "So…" she smirked. "You approve?"

"Not my place. Advice I can give, but all decisions are your own." Animal replied swiftly. "You alone make the decisions that affect your career and _fool be I_ if I were to dictate your career path. That, my young protégé…is your own doing." He grinned widely. "All I can say is whatever you choose to do, one hundred percent and damn the torpedoes."

Maegyn gave him a measured look as if to gauge his sincerity then opted to take the career advice to heart. She looked him over for a long moment – he had a nice smile; funny she hadn't noticed that before he'd transferred to the Howlers. But Lieutenant Maegyn "Irish" O'Bannon was focused on her career. And her goal was to aspire to a command position within the fleet, hopefully in a fighter squadron.

_**Grandma Sarah's Farm, Belleville, PA**_

Harm smiled as he took in the lines of the Navy Stearman trainer that he had spent the better part of his recovery working on. With some help from the mechanics at Pop's airfield from Blacksburg who gave him a hand with some of the stuff. They had dug out some plans that made restoring that old machine a lot easier than before when all he'd had were his father's old notes to go off of.

The Stearman had an all-metal body with the exception of the wings which were wood and Harm had to replace a number of parts on the old girl with a lot of care and attention to the details – tubes and fabric had to be specially ordered, as the Stearman's fuselage had to be completely rebuilt, owing as to the fact that the aircraft had been out in the elements before Harm's father had purchased it before his fated deployment. Running his hands along the skin, he grinned at the Stearman. "You and me, we're going to have some fun in the sky…" he said to the un-answering airplane.

_**NAS Oceana, Virginia Beach, VA, 1125hrs**_

"How you settling in?" House poked his head in the door.

Animal looked up from the paperwork and grinned. "Yeah…looks like I'm gonna be having a shit-load of fun. Considering how many reports I have to churn out, trees are going to be scared." He paused for a moment, scanned all the files on his desk and said. "Did the Navy realize that all these paper files if converted to digital could save a forest?"

"Beyond my pay-grade, Animal." His squadron commander shrugged his shoulders and chuckled. "That's the life of a department head, Animal, creating reports and pondering the imponderable."

"I'm going to talk with the Golden Warriors' CO and see if we can get some DACT in before Miramar. Waiting for Miramar to do any training isn't going to help our guys any." Animal opined as he casually looked over the training file.

House nodded. "I wish it was the old days. When we were flying F-4Bs, we used to buzz the local zoomie base and taunt them into coming up and bumping. Then we transitioned to Tomcats in 76." Animal wryly looked up at House.

"You old enough to have flown the Phantom?" Animal asked.

"I'm older than dirt, Animal." House replied casually. "This is my second CO tour, believe it or not. I don't think they're going to make me O-6. I transitioned into the squadron in 73 as a cone, flew the B for three years then we got the call to transition to the Turkey. Squadron command's a young man's game. They're promoting the young ones now into command positions, grooming them for O-6 and above." He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm an old warhorse ready for the glue factory."

Animal grunted. "I don't know what the Navy's thinkin', House, we still need the old hands to show the way to these young ones."

"Well, that's the way it goes. Old friend." House replied. "The old makes way for the new and it's up to you guys to lead the way. Gives you seasoning for when you guys become the old salts."

_**Grandma Sarah's Farm, Belleville, PA 1210hrs**_

"I thought I'd find you out here." Harm turned around to find Diane looking at him. Diane's figure and hair were backlit by the noon sunlight. Harm reached out a hand and Diane walked out of the sunlight into the barn. "So, how's your dad's Stearman coming along?" she casually asked.

"Well, it looks like it'll be flyable, once we get the engine mounted back on the frame and the panels covering that area back in place. You don't know just how hard it was to find a Lycoming engine around these parts."

"I bet…" Diane catered to Harm's aviation fascination, but couldn't understand it. All she knew was that it made Harm happy and a happy Harm made her happy.

"Found a Lycoming R-680-5 in Blacksburg and managed to coax the owner to sell it. Told him that it would be better on an aircraft than gathering rust and dust in a barn. Just have to rebuild the engine to operating status and it'll be ready to mount on the Stearman. And I think we'll have it done by end of summer, mounted and ready for its first flight." Harm grinned at Diane. "Just gotta get Pop to give me a hand." He extended an arm to curl it around Diane as she leaned into his embrace. In the blissful silence that followed, she could hear him whisper. "Thanks, Dad."

It had probably also helped that Pop had said to the guy _Do it for Harm's boy_. Everybody who was over 60 had known Harm's dad as he had grown up in Belleville and the surrounding area was his Dad's playground. And it just so happened that Old Man Jackson had known Harmon Rabb Sr. Old Man Jackson had swallowed a lump in his throat, stuck out his great paw to Harm and said. "Son, you got yourself an engine."

Diane knew that the Stearman was Harm's connection to his dad, but Harm realized that not only that it was a connection to an entire community who tried to help whenever they could with Harm's restoration of that Stearman. It signified the hopes and dreams of an entire community who saw one of their own go to war and not come home, that all that was left of that young boy that they remembered was an engraved name on a wall somewhere in Washington DC; the young boy…that Harm now called Dad – the one whom he had looked up to so much and missed so much growing up.

Not wanting disturb the moment, but Diane heard Harm's stomach rumble. "Harm…Grandma Sarah told me to come get you for lunch." She indicated.

Harm grinned at her, nodded and said. "OK…let's go in…" Shutting the barn door and locking it, he turned to Diane, reaching out a hand to take hers and they slowly walked towards the farmhouse, enjoying the warmth of the summer heat.

_**NAS Oceana, Virginia Beach, VA, 1435hrs**_

"Alright!" Animal growled as he looked over the new squadron members. "You got the welcome, now you get the asshole treatment." He grinned evilly at the new squadron members who chuckled going right along with the gag. "House told me that we need to get you guys whipped into shape. Right now, I don't think you could fly your way out of a wet paper bag." A chorus of _oooooooh_… catcalls followed that assertation. He glowered at the cone-heads. "Everyone strip your Black Aces patches off. You haven't earned the right to call yourself Black Aces yet." The squadron cone-heads looked at each other in shock. "NOW!" Animal snapped out, his voice like a whiplash. "Deposit them on the table." The cones reluctantly did so; there was an air of resentment in the room as they returned to their seats.

"We have six months…before we deploy to the Med. In that time we need you to become experienced warfighters capable of downing any kind of aircraft you come into contact with. The Med is no cakewalk." Flipping on a projector, he growled. "This is the Mikoyan Guerivich MiG 29 Fulcrum, Developed by the Mikoyan design bureau, this is a twin-engined aircraft whose primary mission is to be an air superiority fighter. I fought one over Iraq." The blunt statement shut several guys up that were still making catcalls.

Animal looked over the room and after a long silence he continued. "The Iraqi Air Force is now missing ONE MiG 29." He stated ingenuously as he gave them a smug grin. That statement silenced the rest who now listened attentively. Flipping to the next photo on the over-head he growled again. "Six months later…the Iraqi Air Force got the bright idea to send up their top fighter at the time. The Sukhoi-designed Su-27 Flanker. The Su-27 most often flies air supremacy missions, but its most modern variants are able to perform almost all aerial warfare operations. It's direct comparable is the USAF F-15 Eagle. The Iraqi Air Force is also missing one of their Su-27s after meeting with my F-14A Tomcat." There was complete dead silence as the new cone-heads were looking at each other with no witty retort for that statement.

He paused for a long moment. "The lesson is that it is not the technology that makes the warfighter so dangerous, it is the training that you undergo. In order for you to become deadly as a warfighter it means you need to train and train hard. To that end, I've talked with the Golden Warriors squadron CO. You will be going up 1v1, 2v1, 2v2 and 3v2 as well as 1vunkowns and other scenarios with the Golden Warriors. Dissimilar Air Combat Training or DACT as we call it will teach you about fighting a dissimilar aircraft – an aircraft with a cornering capability not similar to your own. It will also teach you about fighting a smaller aircraft than your own. These missions start today. Lieutenant JG Wallace?"

"Aye sir!"

"You and Lieutenant JG Petrie will be on tap for a 2vunknowns at 1635hrs. I'll read your post-hop assessment afterwards and see if you two are ready to become Black Aces. The rest of you: I'll have your hop assignments tomorrow. Start reading your ACM procedures." Animal shut the projector off. "By the time this DACT introductory training is over, we'll see if you have the right stuff to become Black Aces. You all will have the chance to earn your right to wear the squadron patch. Until then, you wear nothing on your flight suit." There was absolute dead silence. As the new cone-heads filed out of the room; a rousing round of applause from the old-hands filled the room.

It hadn't been voiced, but there had been an air of resentment from the old hands at the new cone-heads walking in like they owned the place, their Black Aces patches gaudily displayed on their flight suits as if they were already one of the guys. It was a knock at the old hands, and the proud history of the VF-41 Black Aces to have the new guys walk in like they owned the squadron without having had to earn their right to wear the squadron patch and the simple fact that Animal had turned their entitlement on its head and stripped them of their patches which he placed into a box...made the old hands pleased as hell.


	3. Throat-Slitting

_**NAS Oceana, Virginia Beach, VA, 1800hrs**_

Animal was sitting in his office going over the post-hop evals when House and Mad Dog stopped by. "Eh, you still here?" Mad Dog asked as he poked his head in the doorway.

"Yep." Animal replied shortly as he looked over the file in his hand. "House, Mad Dog. I got some bad news for you."

"What?" House looked worried.

"Petrie doesn't make the cut – some of the Golden Warriors cones turned him inside out today. I'm sending him back to RAG for another go-'round." Animal said holding out Petrie's assessment folder to House who took it and looked at it, "Lack of SA (situational awareness) and his skills aren't up to par. I don't think we're going to be able to turn him into what we need by the time six months is done." Animal continued.

House and Mad Dog looked at each other – they weren't expecting a wholesale cleanout of the squadron. "You realize we have to keep some of the guys?" House asked.

"Well…I want the guys we retain to be razor sharp." Animal retorted acidly. "If BuPERS sees we're tossing back some of the fish that they tossed us, maybe they might do a better job of assigning aviators who can actually hack the program. Otherwise, they're just tossing us cannon-fodder and I don't want to waste a thirty-six million dollar aircraft because some camel jockey tosses up a missile at an aviator who can't cut the mustard."

"You got a point there." House nodded.

Mad Dog looked over at Animal. "You know, House, he's doing A-OK for a training officer. I didn't like how some of the cones started automatically wearing patches like they owned the damned squadron." He said as he shut the door behind him and sat down on a chair. He looked over at the box of Black Aces patches on the top of the shelf. "Did you confiscate those?"

Animal nodded slowly. "I think they should earn the right to wear them, not wear them automatically when they come into the squadron." He passed over another folder labeled _DACT Introductory Training Missions_ which he handed to the squadron CO. "I arranged with VFA-87's CO that we do an introductory set of hops, about 6 in total that will give the cones a taste of Dissimilar Air Combat. First hop was today. First eval was today. And I'm cutting Petrie. I'll have the other first cuts tomorrow after the first evolution is finished. Second hop will give more of an idea of what bodies are taking up space and which aren't." he grinned, but something in his smile didn't reach his eyes. "By the time this DACT ITM evaluation is over, we'll have an idea of what we're dealing with and the bodies we retain will be the ones that we know can hack it. Then we start the evals all over again with the new crop of guys BuPERS tosses our way so that we can fill out our squadron."

"Like what you're doing…" House replied, giving Animal a nod of approval. "That ensures that we do have the ones who know what the hell they're doing behind a stick and throttle. Let me know how the throat-slitting is going tomorrow." He laughed uproariously as he and Mad Dog headed out the door.

Animal chuckled as he tossed at their backs. "Yep, just like innocent little calves. They won't know what the hell hit 'em." That caused Mad Dog and House to laugh even more as they walked down the hallway and out the door of the VF-41 squadron building.

"So…what are you evilly cackling about?" Maegyn peered around the corner; looking worriedly as to why Animal was snickering. "Is it safe to come in?"

"Yep…it's safe…" Animal grinned. "Come on in…" he motioned her in.

"I hear you're weeding out the cones." Maegyn said wryly. "Keeping the best of the best in?"

Animal nodded as he looked over the files. "I've got hops set up for all of them tomorrow. I did the first two and the first cut today. So what you doing here so late?" he asked.

"Well, bored and there's nothing to see in my apartment other than four walls and probably some movies I've seen more than fifty times. Was just wondering if you're ready to pack it in for the day and head out and grab a bite to eat?" Maegyn replied as she gave him a measuring look.

"I could be enticed." Animal smirked.

"Well, that's good." She stated. "How does Chinese sound?"

"Sounds good to me, but one request. No General Tso's chicken."

"OK…Jade Villa?" Maegyn grinned at him. "They've got the best Chinese in Virginia Beach."

"OK…you pick…" Animal replied as he put the files he was working on away and grabbed his khaki cover. "After you…Maegyn."

_**Grandma Sarah's Farm, Belleville, PA, 1830hrs**_

Sarah looked over at her grandson, the tall ex-aviator was talking quietly with his longtime friend and she noticed how closely the two were sitting together on the couch. It had been the same with her son and Trish. Turning to go back into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner she gave a thankful look up at the sky in gratitude that her grandson was still around. They had almost lost him at one point in the surgery after the ramp strike but were able to resuscitate him. The sky had taken away her husband, Joseph Rabb and her son, Harmon, but had seen fit to leave Harmon Jr. alone. Hopefully he would be able to make a life for himself and seeing her with Diane brought a warm feeling to Sarah.

She turned to the chicken that was in the oven cooking and the meal that she was preparing for the three of them and thanked God that Harm was safe and home. And eventually he would be embarking on the next phase of his life as a law student. Sarah was torn between knowing that Harm Junior wouldn't be flying Navy jets any more like her son, lost over the skies of Viet Nam. The sadness Harm Jr. not knowing his father expressed in his eyes. She had once gone with Harm to his father's memorial just after he'd been released from the hospital…and she had pushed him in a wheel-chair up to his father's name, where he had slumped defeated in his chair because he couldn't reach his father's name to touch it. She had enticed him with a return trip when he'd gotten back on his feet and made certain that he'd had a goal to work towards.

"Penny for your thoughts, Grandma?" Harm's voice prodded her out of her reverie.

"Oh, nothing, just a little woolgathering by an old woman." Sarah teased him.

"Stop it, Grandma, you're not an old woman." Harm's arms wrapped around his grandma's shoulders as he enveloped her in a warm hug.

"What are you doing in my kitchen rather than spending time with a young pretty girl like Diane." She winked at him.

"Because I love you, Grandma." Harm said.

"Well…I love you too, Grandson…now git…I gotta finish making dinner." Harm skedaddled as she mockingly raised a wooden spoon in his direction. Retreating back to the living room where Diane was still reading a book, Harm looked over the introductory package to Georgetown University Law Center where he would be taking his post-graduate degree in Law. It seemed like a good enough place and would help him apply to the Judge Advocate General Corps when he was finished. For now, his military career was on hold as he had reserved his commission until such time as he would be able to go active again after he had graduated from Georgetown University with his Masters in Law.

"So when do you return to DC?" Diane asked softly as she looked over at Harm who casually flipped the page of the introductory info brochure. "When do you go for orientation?"

"I'm supposed to be back in DC by September, but I'm not going back to Washington until I can get the Stearman back in the air and test it out, I've got enough clearance to get this aircraft off the ground here but I'm going to have to check with the FAA and file a flight plan so that they won't have a conniption fit when I join the pattern for landing at Blacksburg." Harm casually flipped another page looking over at the information that would give him an idea of what Georgetown University Law Center's law program would be like.

Diane understood that Harm had to fly the Stearman to an airport to be able to use the aircraft regularly but still worried about him flying. That ramp-strike had ripped her heart to shreds. Every single hour at his bedside, the dreaded EKG meter measuring his vitals, the death-like stillness of his form as the Bethesda surgeons had placed him in a medically induced coma to help his body repair itself. Even now the memories of the oxygen mask hooked up to his face helping him breath made her shudder. She didn't want to lose him ever again. "Fly safely, Harm." She moved herself closer on the sofa to sit next to him wrapping her left arm around him.

"I will…" Harm said. "…after all, that airplane is the only airplane that I'll be flying from now on." He said, a note of bitterness in his voice. Once one had the taste of speed in his blood it was hard to get that out. Diane silently wondered if Harm would ever reconcile the loss of his wings.

_**Jade Villa**_; _**Virginia Beach, VA, 1940hrs**_

Polishing off the last of the chow mein, Animal grinned at Maegyn. "You're right, this place does good food."

"So…what happens tomorrow?" Maegyn asked as she skewered a piece of char siu (BBQ Pork) with the chopsticks and brought it to her mouth.

Swallowing another mouthful of what remained of the chow mein, Animal replied. "Sending up another group of cones to see if they have what it takes. Process of elimination, then we get the survivors to go up against a group of more experienced guys in the squadron and see what they've got."

"Sounds like you've got an intense weed-out process planned." Maegyn looked impressed.

"Have to; if we don't…we don't have a deployment ready squadron. All of us are going to have to be able to do what it takes to be combat-ready and I don't intend to take a non-combat-ready squadron and stick 'em in Sandbox where we have to fly combat missions with the camel-jockeys tossing god-knows-what up at us." Animal looked at Maegyn, a stern expression on his face. "We can't assume that our guys know exactly what to do when Ali Baba and his forty-thousand thieves decide to lob up a SAM. We gotta know that they can do it." He continued. "And unless I put them through the meat-grinder here, we're not going to know if they can hack it. It's too late when haji turns a thirty-six million dollar aircraft into aluminum confetti n' doggie meat-treats" he paused a moment, grinned at Maegyn and said. "House and Mad Dog agree. You rotate out when?" he asked Maegyn.

"I'll probably still be here in November. I'm supposed to report in December to Norfolk. " Maegyn's face brightened as she thought of an idea. "Hey, it's just a quick trip along I-264 and up I-64. Maybe you can come visit before you guys leave for deployment? You guys leave in March of '93 right?"

"So I hear." Animal said as he knocked back his soda. "I'm figuring about the middle of March, but there's going to be a lot to do before then."

"No doubt there…" Maegyn replied. "Glad you're doing it and not me."

"Gee, why thanks…"

_**NAS Oceana, Virginia Beach, VA, 1635hrs, Next Day**_

"Lieutenant JG Kaczynski, in my office please!" Animal growled as he strode past a flight-geared cone standing by the water cooler.

"Yes sir!" the barked reply echoed across the room as LT JG Kaczynski braced and followed the operations officer to his office.

"Sit down." Animal ordered as he closed the door behind the Lieutenant JG. "I've got your file here." He paused ominously as LT Kaczynski fidgeted knowing that this day was a day of reckoning. "Lieutenant, when you went up against the Golden Warriors…" he paused, "the assessment of your performance…" Lieutenant Kaczynski flinched visibly – this was painful. "…was not up to standard. You will report to the VF-101 Grim Reapers tomorrow morning for another refresher course. Do you understand? When you are finished that refresher you will contact BuPERS for another assignment."

"Yes sir." The dejection of the officer in question was palpable and Animal didn't give the officer any more time to dwell over the situation.

"Send Lieutenant JG Malcolm in."

"Aye Aye, sir."

_**NAS Oceana, Virginia Beach, VA, 1655hrs**_

House poked his head in. "How's the throat slitting going?"

"Had to give five of them the boot. It's going swell." Animal said sarcastically. "Looks like BuPERS is going to have a stinking shit-fit when I'm done here. Well, they sent us this goat-fuck in the first place." House laughed uproariously in response to Animal's reply.

"Good, that'll keep them on their toes." House came in and sat down. "So, what's happening tomorrow."

"Well, we send the ones up who survived up one v two. Then we toss the losers… and so on. 1v3 is the real test. Then we'll know who's got the mustard to stick with the squadron. But then again BuPERS is going to rant and rave that I'm kicking out rated aviators. They're echelons above reality if they don't send us guys who got what it takes to fly combat." Animal shrugged. "We got a few DIRCOM dipshits in rank'n file…and we'll see what they've got – if they've got any natural talent or whether they're just taking up space." Animal muttered. "AOCS…Ninety day wonders."

"You went through Rotsee?" House asked. "Just like me?"

"Yeah. The four year program with the butterbars at the end of it." Animal replied.

"Hopefully by the end of this training period we'll have restocked our cabinet with aviators who can hack the program." House commented as he looked over at the files of the aviators who got removed from the Black Aces. "Just try and do it diplomatically." He advised.

"I hear and obey…" Animal smirked.

House shook his head, rolled his eyes and got up out of his chair. "Just try not to give me any more grey hairs, Animal. I've got enough of them."


End file.
